


demanding (too much until i break)

by Anonymous



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Gaslighting, Kissing, M/M, Overworking, Self-Doubt, Verbal Abuse, at the end there is some talk about feelings and some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Chan works day and night, bordering on working himself into exhaustion, but not by a choice of his own. A producer at the company demands too much of him, but Chan doesn't see anything else to it. And then Minho finds out...
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30
Collections: Sweet & Sour Fest





	demanding (too much until i break)

**Author's Note:**

> this is prompt #120 written for [sweet and sour fest](https://twitter.com/sweetsourfest)

Chan is acting differently. Not necessarily bad, but different. Tired, distant. It has Minho antsy, waiting for a moment where it explodes, a catalyst of sorts.

It never comes.

Instead, he can almost  _ feel _ Chan getting steadily  _ worse, _ but no one else seems to notice, and most of the time there’s not really anything off to note about him.

It’s almost enough for Minho to believe that he’s just been imagining the whole thing.

Almost.

— 

Times before comebacks are always stressful. For everyone on the team, but Chan in particular. Songs need to be picked, things need to be finalised, vocals need to be recorded, and so many other things Chan doesn’t have the energy to list. Not with all the stress weighing on his shoulder.

There is one producer in particular who keeps stressing Chan out, however. He keeps finding tiny details about their title track specifically that he doesn't like, and until everyone has signed off on all the songs, they can't move on to the next step in the process. Chan knows that Changbin in particular is taking it hard, knows that he has been working hard on the song, that it's extra special to him. So he takes it upon himself to take the brunt of the producer's annoyance with them, of them not wanting to cooperate and simply do the changes.

Considering all the freedom they usually have with creating music, Chan thinks it's going to be a quick case, a quick discussion and then it's done. It doesn't. The producer is stubborn, but Chan is more stubborn and he won't give up.

But then the producer starts expressing his dissatisfaction in the work Chan has put into the title track. Not the work of the whole team, no, the work  _ Chan _ specifically has done. It feels like an directed attack against him, but he doesn’t have enough evidence to convince anyone that that’s the case.

And then he starts doubting himself. Starts thinking that maybe he's just reading into it, trying to find problems where there aren't any. All the producers they work with do their best to make sure that Stray Kids will put out the best possible music. Chan shouldn’t disrupt that by complaining about someone leaving criticism about his work. Getting feedback and improving yourself based on that is a huge part of the song making process, or just simply growing in life.

—

The first time it happens seems almost reasonable, when he tries to think back on and explain it to himself. They’ve just been in a meeting with some of the producers when Sanghoon asks him to stay back as Changbin and Jisung leaves with the rest of the producers. Despite nothing having even happened yet, Chan’s stomach curl with unease because he was particularly determined to not go through with any of the major changes proposed.

Despite this, he sits back down in his chair and turns his attention to Sanghoon.

“You may have gotten what you wanted,” Sanghoon starts, pacing by his chair, “but that does not mean I will tolerate any impoliteness.”

Chan frowns at this, because while he was determined, he can’t remember having been any form of impolite with any of the producers.

“We do a lot for your group,” Sanghoon continues, not acknowledging Chan’s frown (probably for the best). “We all just want you to succeed, and we do our best to ensure that.”

“Of course,” Chan says, wanting to show that he agrees.

“However,” Sanghoon once again doesn’t acknowledge Chan, “that does not mean you can slack behind.”

_ Oh. Has he? _ Chan can’t remember having worked any less hard than he usually does lately, but perhaps Sanghoon is right? Has he been slacking behind?

Chan shakes his head, mostly at himself. “Of course not, I will make sure to work harder.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Then that’s it, Sanghoon dismisses him and Chan leaves, determined to work harder. No harm done.

—

Everyone works hard to make sure that the title track is ready for their comeback, seeing as they’re on a much tighter schedule than they usually are. Like a coward (which he doesn’t understand, because everything is fine) Chan tries to keep all his contact with the producers limited to anyone who isn’t Sanghoon. It works out well, until Sanghoon comes to him one day. And then the day after. And the day after that.

It’s always small things he has to complain about, that sounds reasonable when Chan turns it over in his head. If he does that change Sanghoon is proposing, it  _ will _ sound better.

The only problem is that he always approaches Chan when he’s alone, never when Changbin or Jisung are there, and it doesn’t take long for them to start questioning the constant changes Chan presents to them.

“Hyung,” Jisung says on one of those days, “this really doesn’t have to be changed like this. You gotta trust yourself, bro.”

“And trust us,” Changbin adds.

It hits him hard, somewhere deep in his chest. Guilt that he’s just letting Sanghoon change what Jisung and Changbin has worked so hard on. He shouldn’t let Sanghoon decide when all three of 3racha have been given the freedom to create their own tracks.

The next time Sanghoon comes to him, he tells him as much.

“All I’m trying to do is make sure that what you’re making is as good as it can possibly be,” Sanghoon counters, his voice taking on a chilly note that Chan has never heard before. “Are you saying that I’m in the wrong for doing that?”

“Ah, no, of course not,” Chan hurries to say, because that’s the last thing he wants it to come across as.

“Good,” Sanghoon says, his voice instantly sounding lighter. “Just make sure to work hard.”

—

Chan gets home late.

It’s not that it’s something that’s unusual by his standards, but this time he’s worrying that someone might have already woken up. If he’s really out of luck it might even be Minho.

The dorm sounds silent when he opens the door and steps inside, toeing off his shoes as carefully as he can. However, he doesn’t get many steps further in before he notices the light coming out from underneath the bathroom door.  _ Fuck. _ Maybe it’s just someone who got up to use the toilet?

The door opens a moment later and Minho steps out, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. So not someone who got up to use the toilet then…

“You’re back home late,” Minho comments, but his voice doesn’t sound judging. Only slightly concerned.

“Yeah,” Chan agrees, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Lost track of time while working, I guess.” It’s only a slight lie, because while he was aware of time running out like sand between his fingers while he got no progress done, he never realised just how late it was getting.

“Mm,” Minho hums. It sounds almost as if he’s not caring, but Chan knows he just doesn’t want to make Chan turn in on himself. “Go to bed, you don’t have to get up early, and I’ll make sure the kids don’t wake you up.”

Chan smiles, ever grateful that he has Minho. “When did Felix and Changin go to bed? I don’t want to wake them up.”

“Not too long ago, I think.” Minho slings his towel over his shoulder and grabs onto the belt hoops of Chan’s jeans. “C’mon, I’m gonna read for a bit before Jeongin wakes up. I promise you won’t wake Hyunjin or Seungmin up.”

Chan follows him gladly, led by Minho. Minho has to know he’s thankful, so he doesn’t feel a need to tell him as much. He’ll just show it by allowing Minho to help him fall asleep.

The bedroom is dark, but Minho expertly finds his way to the bed and lightly pushes Chan onto it. He follows after him and closes the curtain behind him, so that they're fully surrounded by the dark. Minho fumbles with something for a moment before his phone is on and gives them some slight light. He has settled against his headboard, leaving space between himself and the wall for Chan to lay down.

Chan does, crawling under the blanket as good as he can and takes a deep breath to let the exhaustion finally settle over him. He closes his eyes and presses his face against Minho’s thigh. The fabric of his sweatpants is soft, and the hand Minho slides into Chan’s hair is sooting.

He falls asleep easier than he thought he would do.

—

When he wakes up, Minho's bed is empty, the spot where he'd sat now cold. Chan misses his presence, but it's okay, he's fine without it. (He so desperately hopes he will be, so it has to be true.)

When he checks his phone there's a missed call from a number he hasn't added to his contact list, so he doesn't think too much about it. At least not until he gets to the company and runs into Sanghoon.

"Ah, Bang Chan, there you are, finally." There's another one of the producers with him, one of the ones Chan hasn't spoken too much to. "I tried calling you when you didn't show up, but I never got any response. You're not slacking off are you?"

Chan feels his blood run cold, panic winding around his lung in dark, heavy tendrils. They didn't have a meeting he forgot about, right? No, they can't have had, Chan never forget such things. He throws a quick look at the producer, scared of coming off as rude.

"Ah, I can't recall that we had a meeting planned."

Sanghoon clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. "Ah, I shouldn't be surprised…"

Chan's cheeks heat up in mortification. All he wants to do is flee from the situation, but doing so would just make everything worse.

"Make sure to be on time next time," Sanghoon said, a note of contempt in his voice that Chan will not be able to forget. "I have other things to attend to now, so we will see when that will come."

Chan can't find any words to say before both of the producers are leaving. He's so certain that they did not have a meeting planned — in fact, he's certain that he would have remembered simply because of the dread already filling him at the thought. But why else would Sanghoon act like this? What reason would he have to lie to Chan?

—

Foolishly, Chan assumes everything will get better after everything for the comeback has been finalised and Sanghoon surely can’t have much to complain about anymore.

He’s wrong, of course, because somewhere there is a force working against Chan, who’s currently laughing at Chan’s misery. (Phrasing it like that makes it seem less serious, as if Chan is just being overly dramatic. He does it on purpose, because maybe then he doesn’t have to acknowledge the knife buried deep inside his chest twisting closer to his heart with every word coming from the producer. He’s fine though, Chan is absolutely fine.)

—

Chan tries for several days to deny that sleeping next to Minho, breathing in his scent, was calming. It was some of the best sleep he's gotten recently, but admitting that means having to acknowledge other things.

Still, it only takes a few days before he's sneaking over to Minho's closet. He'd woken up late, tendrils of a nightmare clinging to him, and the dorm had been empty. An empty dorm meant no one to subtly seek comfort from, means now Chan is standing in front of Minho and searching for a hoodie or sweater that looks like it can be Chan's own. If he's gonna use his smell for comfort he at least doesn't want to be called out for it.

He finds a black hoodie that looks like it could honestly be one of Chan's, but it smells like Minho so it's perfect. He shrugs it on over his t-shirt and buries his nose in the collar and just inhales.

He has to take a shaky breath in, after, to prevent himself from actually starting to cry. Nevertheless, he feels calmer than he has all morning, comforted by knowing that even though he has none of his members with him right now, he at least has something to remind him of them.

—

Chan is almost in the safety of his studio when Sanghoon corners him.

His critique starts out like it usually does, reasonable and giving suggestions for improvements — they way he does it when it’s not just Chan there. But then he gets more brutal, nitpicking a part that Chan has worked hard on, a part he’s extremely proud of. It’s too much.

Chan doesn’t realise he’s zoned out until Sanghoon snaps, “Yah, are you even listening to me? This is the type of behaviour I can’t tolerate.”

For some reason that’s the last drop making the glass spill over, making Chan realise that Sanghoon shouldn’t be allowed to talk to him like this. Sure, he’s a senior producer, but that’s all he is, they’re not closer than so.

Sanghoon sighs, as if noticing some of this on Chan’s face. “Look, all I want is for you to be successful and your best version of yourself. But you have to work with me to achieve that.” He runs a hand through his hair, before turning his sharp gaze fully to Chan. “I’ll come by tomorrow for a progress report.”

Chan doesn’t realise until Sanghoon is already leaving down the hallway that Minho is right there leaning against the doorway into the studio Chan usually uses.

“What was that?” Minho asks, sounding simultaneously angry and vary, as if he’s unsure he’s judging the situation correctly.

“Ah, he had some feedback for me about the latest songs I was presenting,” Chan says, hoping that Minho didn’t hear enough to dispute his claim.

“You know,” Minho says, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ve been here all along. I was waiting for you when I overheard you talking.”

“Oh.”

“So, do you wanna try again?” Minho raises his eyebrow at him, a clear challenge. “What was that about?”

“It was still feedback,” Chan sighs, sliding past Minho into the studio. “Sure, he may be a little harsh about it sometimes, but it’s still feedback.”

“Hyung, feedback shouldn’t sound like that…” The door closes behind Minho with a soft click, and Chan can finally take a breath and relax.

“Feedback always sounds different from different people,” Chan counters.

Minho seems to cut off a groan of frustration and instead asks, “Would you still think so if it was me saying those things?”

“You wouldn’t,” Chan says instantly, because he knows Minho never would. For all that he may seem intimidating, he’s far from cruel, and cares for all of them to an extent Chan can barely grasp at.

When Minho doesn’t say anything Chan turns away from him and starts setting up his computer. He’ll need to take a look at all the parts Sanghoon mentioned.

"Isn't this my hoodie?" Minho asks and spins Chan around, grabbing the strings on the hood to pull him closer. "I'm pretty sure it is."

"Oh, is it?" Chan asks, feigning ignorance, but he's probably not very convincing considering his voice breaks at the end.

"Hyung…" There's something like concern flickering in Minho's eyes.

"It smells like you," Chan admits, not much more than a murmur. His shoulders come up to his ears in a pathetic attempt to hide, and he looks down to the floor, unable to meet Minho's eyes.

"Yeah, I'd assume so," Minho says, in that easy voice of his. The one that has always made Chan feel like it makes it easy to admit things to him.

"It's comforting." Chan chances a glance up at Minho, to find him looking at him with one of the softest looks in his eyes that Chan has ever seen.

The lines around Minho’s eyes stiffen, and a muscle in his temple twitches. “You try to say that Sanghoon’s not doing anything wrong, but something about the things he says distresses you to the point you seek comfort in me smell.”

He’s hitting far too close for comfort. A heavy weight of unease settles in Chan’s gut. “That’s not it.”

“Oh?” Minho raises his voice. “Isn’t it? Then what do you need it for? And don’t you dare lie to me this time.”

Chan wants Minho to shut up. In fact, he  _ needs _ him to shut up, before the panic crawling to the surface will become visible. And because he can't think straight, he seems to think that the best solution for that is to push Minho back until he has him pressed against the wall. He buries his nose in Minho's neck and gets lost in his scent. Until Minho starts pushing against his shoulders to get him to step back.

"You can't deflect like this, sooner or later you  _ have _ to talk about it."

"Shut up!" It pulls out of his throat like a growl, beyond his capacity to control. "Just shut up."

But Minho refuses to shut up, his mouth opening instantly. Chan lets out a sound of frustration and pushes their lips together in a bruising kiss. Any words or noises Minho would have tried to make are instantly swallowed down.

It registers in Chan's mind, finally, after several moments, that this isn't something he can do, regardless of how angry or frustrated he is.  _ Especially _ because he's so angry and frustrated.

He wrenches himself away from Minho and hangs his head in shame. "Fuck, sorry, I can't do that-"

“Chan,” Minho says, a note in his voice that Chan has never heard before — worried, almost distressed.

“Please,” Chan begs, “just pretend like I never did that. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Chan,” Minho repeats, and finally,  _ finally, _ Chan looks up into his eyes.

He doesn’t find what he expects in them. His whole face is soft, and there is not even a trace of anger to be found anywhere.

“Hyung.” This time he sounds almost yearning, apologetic. “This isn’t the time, but I…”

And then Chan is pulled into a tight embrace, nose full of Minho’s hair and his comforting smell. His hands come up to fist onto Minho’s shirt, pulling closer as much as he can.

He almost wants to cry, but forces himself not to.

“Hyung, please, we really need to talk.”

“I know,” Chan admits, voice wet with unshed tears.

—

Minho doesn’t make him talk more then. Instead he stays by his side as he works, and drags him back to the dorm when evening arrives.

Some of the boys are already home but Minho drags him into his room and closes the door before Chan can even say hi to them.

“C’mon,” Minho says and drags him over to his bed. He maneuvers them around until Chan is laying on top of him, chin resting on his chest. Minho’s hands settle on the small of Chan’s back, rubbing soothing touches into his skin through the hoodie.

“Do we have to talk?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer. Minho doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to, because Chan can see his answer in his eyes.

“He’s not allowed to talk to you like that.”

After what feels like an eternity, Chan replies, “I know.”

Minho seems to know how to phrase things, because that is the one thing he can’t seem to explain away. Even if Chan’s best interest is on his mind, the way he’s giving it to Chan shouldn’t be happening.

Minho doesn’t ask him why he allows it to happen — Chan could almost cry from the relief. Instead he says, “I already told manager-hyung about what happened. He’s not too happy.” That’s probably a light way to say that he’s furious and cussing out anyone and anything crossing his path.

“Oh.”

Minho hums.

“Thanks, I guess,” Chan says after another moment.

“You don’t have to.”

Despite the topic of their conversation, the air around them is comfortable, so Chan has almost fallen asleep when Minho says, “We should talk about the kiss.”

Chan groans and buries his face in Minho’s sweater. He has to bite down on the fabric to stop another groan.

At least Minho hasn’t kicked him away yet.

One of Minho’s hands comes up to pet Chan’s hair. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I really think we should. I can hear you beating yourself up, and…” Minho trails off with something unsaid, something that makes Chan brave enough to angle his head so he can look up at Minho, the fabric of his sweater still between his teeth.

Minho chuckles at him with a small smile. “I know why you panicked, but really, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna say anything about the not asking permission part, because I know you would just start fighting me. But… I could have just pushed you away. And yet I didn’t.”

There’s something to his words, Chan has to admit that. But he can’t get past how he kissed Minho without permission, and he doesn't want Minho to think  _ he _ has to comfort  _ Chan _ about that.

“Please don’t comfort me about that,” Chan says, and it comes out as a whine despite how hard he tries to force it not to.

“Okay,” Minho simply says, because he understands Chan that well. “I won’t.”

“Thank you,” Chan sighs, letting Minho’s sweater go.

He’s closed his eyes again and is taken by surprise when Minho asks, “But can you kiss me again?”

“Huh?” Chan lifts his head from Minho’s chest, just to make sure he’s hearing him clearly.

The corner of Minho’s mouth twitches, and some of the lines on his face softens. “I asked if you could kiss me again.”

“Oh.”

And Chan does, without thinking, because thinking means he can’t focus on the feeling of Minho’s lips on his.


End file.
